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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27699770">white lily</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollutedrain/pseuds/pollutedrain'>pollutedrain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fate &amp; Destiny, Fluff, Getting Together, Language of Flowers, M/M, Pining, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, there's a brief mention of someone getting injured but it's very minor!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:46:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27699770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollutedrain/pseuds/pollutedrain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dejun daydreams about his soulmate while he works, imagines his own fingers intertwined with those of another, their matching marks side by side. He thinks about Kunhang, and how pretty his fingers look when they’re holding whatever flower Dejun had picked out for him that day. </p><p>A coincidence, he's sure.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Challenge #3 — soulmates</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>white lily</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>another entry for alittlewonder, and for one of my favourite tropes! this got stressful towards the end, i was panicking as i hit 3k dead on before i'd even got to proofreading, but i'm happy to be padding out the xiaodery tag with my first attempt at writing them! </p><p>thank you to [redacted for now] for cheering me on as i wrote this, i hope you enjoy reading it even if you won't know it's from me at first (or at least i hope not). ♡</p><p>note: as mentioned in the tags, someone does get injured in one scene, but it's incredibly minor!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>He’s here again</em>. </p><p>Dejun tucks himself further behind the curtain that serves to separate the flower shop’s backroom from the actual shop floor. While it had been a general nuisance at the time, he suddenly finds himself grateful that Johnny had recently rearranged their stock of potted palms, as the fronds provide an extra layer of cover for him to peer through.</p><p>He’d been working away in the back, engrossed in his task of preparing their new shipment of chrysanthemums for display when he’d heard the familiar ring of the bell that hung above the shop’s front door. Knowing Johnny was busy, Dejun had immediately abandoned what he was doing, drying his hands on his apron as he intended to go greet their latest customer. </p><p>That had changed, however, when he’d caught sight of the man just as he’d drawn the curtain back, his cheerful <em>welcome!</em> quickly dying in his throat. Instead, he’d let out the tiniest noise of distress, slipping into his hiding place while praying that he hadn’t been spotted.</p><p>Thankfully, it seems that only Johnny saw him, the older man clearly fighting back the urge to laugh at him. To Dejun’s relief, he doesn’t. Instead Johnny closes his laptop where he’d been balancing their budget, safely storing it away in the locked cupboard under the counter before he moves out round to cover for him.</p><p>“Welcome back!” Dejun watches his coworker (technically his boss more than anything else, though Johnny refuses to be referred to as such) greet the customer, usual bright smile on his face. “Here for something in particular, or just browsing?”</p><p>“Um…” The customer fiddles with the strap of his bag, trying his best to be subtle as he peers around the room, as though he were searching for something. Or rather, someone. “Dejun- Is he...?”

Dejun watches as Johnny’s expression shifts, giving way to something much more soft and tender, and he curses quietly to himself. </p><p>While the older man would probably jump in front of a speeding train to save Dejun, he’s also the walking definition of hopeless romantic. He always had been, ever since Dejun had first met him, and Johnny meeting his soulmate hadn’t done anything to diminish his feelings. If anything, it spurred him on to help Dejun with his love life even more.</p><p>Dejun was doomed.</p><p>“He’s in the back,” Johnny beams at the customer. “I’ll send him out.”</p><p>And there it is. </p><p>Dejun barely has enough time to duck away from the curtain before Johnny flounces through it, already in search of his coworker. The older man brightens up when he spots him, and he reaches out to clap Dejun on the shoulder.</p><p>
“You probably heard while you were hiding, but you’ve been requested out front.”</p><p>“I wasn’t requested,” Dejun knows he’s whining, but he can’t help it. He’s been betrayed. “You <em>volunteered</em> me.”</p><p>“Exactly!” Johnny replies. “Who am I to stand in the way of destiny?”</p><p>“It’s not destiny, it’s just Kunhang.” Dejun grumbles in response, dusting his apron down before he pulls the curtain back.</p><p>It’s not that Dejun doesn’t like Kunhang, who had fast become one of their most regular customers, coming into the shop every Friday afternoon. In fact, it’s quite the opposite, he perhaps likes him <em>too</em> much. Kunhang’s visits have quickly become the thing he looks forward to the most when he’s at work, and that says it all really, as Dejun <em>adores</em> his job.</p><p>There’s just something about Kunhang that draws Dejun in, leaves him flustered and pining over the other man. He’s not sure what it is, can never come up with the right words to describe it no matter how hard he tries. But it leaves him lying awake at night, staring at his ceiling, a constant stream of <em>what ifs</em> running through his mind.</p><p>He clears his throat quietly, trying not to look as tense as he feels. </p><p>Kunhang startles, turning around from where he’d been admiring Johnny’s beloved parlour palm (not for sale).  Dejun tries not to fixate on the way the other man’s eyes positively <em>light up</em> with recognition, or the way a warm smile blooms over his face.</p><p>“Hi.” Kunhang greets him. </p><p>“Hi.” Dejun breathes in return, trying to not to give into the urge to run into the backroom again. Johnny would probably drag him back out if he tried, anyway. </p><p>Kunhang looks soft, bundled up in a cardigan with sleeves that fall over his fingers . He’d dyed his hair a couple weeks back, a shade of pink that reminded Dejun of raspberry sorbet. It had faded to a much prettier shade, like Dejun had conjured the man up in one of his dreams. </p><p>“Here for some shopping?” He asks the other man, cringing internally at how awkward he sounds.</p><p>Kunhang laughs at that, eyes sparkling as they crinkle at the corners, just how Dejun likes. </p><p>“What else would I be here for?” He jokes, making Dejun flush with embarrassment.</p><p>“R-Right.” He stammers out. </p><p>He comes to join Kunhang by the main flower display, the array of bright colours making him squint. </p><p>“Is there anything you have in mind?” He asks, even though he already knows the answer.</p><p>He and Kunhang are months into what has become their little routine together. But Dejun prides himself on being a good employee, and that involves never assuming he knows what the customer wants. </p><p>As expected, Kunhang shakes his head.</p><p>“Could you pick one for me?” He smiles, in that way that has Dejun feeling weak as he nods in reply. </p><p>And this is how their routine goes. Kunhang asks Dejun for a flower, and Dejun delivers it, carefully curated so each one comes with its own secret message.</p><p>They’d started off innocent enough.</p><p>A butterfly orchid for cheerfulness, a rose acacia for friendship. But as Kunhang came in more often and Dejun fell in love more each time, he found himself growing bolder. He’d sent Kunhang away with a pansy (<em>you occupy my thoughts</em>), then a foxglove for wishfulness. Now, he picks out a single lilac, a delicate shade of purple, trying his best not to outright blush as he thinks over its meaning.</p><p><em>The first emotions of love</em>.</p><p>Kunhang takes it as he always does, with a sweet smile and a brush of his fingers against Dejun’s own that sends a shiver down his spine. Dejun takes his money and they exchange their goodbyes, and his <em>see you next week? </em>dies on his lips before he can say the words in time. </p><p>Johnny finds him sulking as he tends to a potted rose bush, and the older man smiles, simply patting him on the shoulder.</p><p>“You’ll get there someday.”</p><p>Dejun hopes he’s right.</p><p>❀❀❀</p><p>Dejun had always loved flowers, for as long as he could remember, really. He supposes his soulmate mark probably played a huge part in his interest, though it potentially was more likely to be just a <em>Dejun</em> kind of thing. </p><p>After all, everyone had their own individual flower somewhere on their body, matching only with their soulmate, but not everyone was obsessed with the idea as he was. Maybe Johnny came close, but the older man had the same enthusiasm for everything in life, he rather thought. </p><p>Dejun’s mark is a white lily that blooms on the inner wrist of his left hand, right where he can feel his pulse if he presses against the skin hard enough. He adores it. </p><p>“A white lily?” Johnny had remarked when they’d first met, at Dejun’s job interview. </p><p>Dejun had been nervous, beyond so as he’d sat across from Johnny, anxiously swirling his coffee around in its mug. The stiff suit he’d chosen to wear hadn’t helped, particularly when the other man was the very picture of comfort in his oversized sweater and jeans. He’d been rubbing absent-mindedly at his mark to try and calm himself when Johnny had spotted it. </p><p>“Y-Yes.” He’d stammered out in reply, letting the other man inspect it.</p><p>“Pure love and sweetness,” Johnny had commented. “A good one to have.”</p><p>Dejun would later learn that Johnny’s mark was a forget-me-not, coloured the deepest blue and wound around his right bicep. <em>True love</em>, he’d thought to himself when he’d first seen it, remembering the passage in his floriography book at home. It was beautiful, and suited the other man almost too well, Dejun rather thought. </p><p>They would both learn that the owner of the matching mark lived literally on the same block as the flower shop when Doyoung ducked in one day to find something to brighten up his apartment. Doyoung had been wearing a sleeveless shirt, and Johnny had dropped the vase he was holding when he’d spotted the familiar blue flower on Doyoung’s skin. </p><p>Doyoung had cut his finger trying to help clean up, and Dejun had watched fondly (and a little sadly) as Johnny gazed at his soulmate as though he were seeing the sun for the first time. </p><p>And the rest was history, leaving Dejun to wait for fate to help him out.</p><p>For all the love he had for his mark, he was also incredibly shy about it, choosing to wear long sleeves that hid it away from the world. He knew it was vaguely counterproductive, certainly wouldn’t make finding his soulmate any easier, but he couldn’t help but feel protective over it. He sees plenty of other people out there with their own similar marks, but they’re never quite right. </p><p>They’re too big, or the placement is wrong, or the petals curl out in the wrong way. He can’t help but feel a little wounded each time.  </p><p>Dejun daydreams about his soulmate while he works, imagines his own fingers intertwined with those of another, their matching marks side by side. He thinks about Kunhang, and how pretty his fingers look when they’re holding whatever flower Dejun had picked out for him. He wonders if Kunhang has found his soulmate yet, and it’s usually about that time that he pulls himself back into the real world.</p><p>Though, deep down he wonders if the flowers he selects just for Kunhang go on to be delivered to someone else, someone with a mark that matches whatever flower hides away on Kunhang’s body. It sours his mood immediately each time. </p><p>The next time Dejun picks out a flower for the other man, he hands him a morning glory. There’s a strange glint in Kunhang’s eyes as he takes it, something akin to sadness stirring there, Dejun thinks, and Kunhang doesn’t come to see him next week. Dejun spends the entire day (the entire week, truthfully) pining until he sees the other man again. </p><p>He takes no risks this time and sends him off with a tulip, cheeks flushed the same colour as the red petals at how bold he’s being.</p><p>Kunhang leaves the shop that day with both the flower and Dejun’s heart.</p><p>❀❀❀</p><p>Dejun is not having a good day.</p><p>His morning starts off pretty nicely, warm sunlight streaming through his window gently stirring him from sleep. He stretches, a happy little noise escaping his lips as he rolls over to check his messages like he always does. There’s the usual series of texts from Yangyang, sent in the middle of the night as always, and a notification that Ten had tagged him in something on instagram, but Dejun isn’t looking at those.</p><p>He’s too busy staring at the time on his screen, dread settling into his stomach, ice cold. </p><p><em>09:49</em>. </p><p>He’s nearly two hours late for work. </p><p>As if on cue, his phone starts vibrating with a call from Johnny. He answers as he practically falls out of bed, phone sandwiched between his ear and shoulder as he tries to get dressed. </p><p>“I’m <em>so </em>sorry!” He gasps, nearly falling over as he struggles to get his jeans on. “I overslept- I’m so sorry Johnny, I’ll stay late and come in on my next day off, I’ll make it up to you, I promise-”</p><p>“Dejun,” He hears Johnny laugh as the older man cuts him off. “It’s fine, truly, I was just calling to make sure you were okay. You can make it up to me by grabbing coffee on your way in, okay?”

Dejun resolves to do so as he hangs up, quickly getting himself ready and hurrying out of his apartment before anything else bad can happen. </p><p>Sadly, it seems that <em>fate </em>has other ideas for him. </p><p>He makes it halfway down the street before he realises he's left his wallet sitting on his desk, meaning he has to run back for it. Not much later, he drops his phone as he’s crossing the road, leaving the screen shattered. </p><p>It’s a relief when he finally makes it to the train station, stopping to grab coffee for himself and Johnny from a nearby kiosk, but he steps on his train just as an announcement declares that his usual stop is closed, meaning he’ll have to get off early and walk. And, as if all that wasn’t enough, it begins pouring with rain when he’s still a good ten minutes away from the flower shop. </p><p>By the time Dejun actually makes it to work, he’s cold and the very definition of miserable. </p><p>“Oh dear,” Johnny chuckles at him when he pushes the shop door open, soaked through to the skin. The customer the older man is serving laughs too, and Dejun ducks his head in embarrassment. “You’re not having a good morning, are you?”

Dejun only manages to nod in reply, half afraid he’ll cry from frustration if he tries to speak. Johnny’s expression softens, and he tilts his head towards the curtain behind him.</p><p>“Go sit in the back,” He instructs. “I’ll be through when I’m done out here.”</p><p>Dejun gladly does as told, leaving Johnny’s now lukewarm coffee next to the cash register as he passes. It’s warmer in the backroom, and he gladly curls into his usual chair as he waits. About fifteen minutes pass before the curtain is drawn back suddenly, Doyoung appearing in the doorway. He smiles over at Dejun, holding up what looks to be a sweater.</p><p>“Johnny asked me to bring something over so you can at least be partially dry,” The older man explains. “It might be a little big but it’s something, right?”</p><p>Doyoung is right, it’s a little too big for Dejun, the older man both taller and broader than him. But it’s miles better than sitting around in his own soaked shirt, so he happily rolls the sleeves up over his elbows and gets to work. </p><p>When the bell rings he glances at his phone, and his heart skips a beat when he realises it’s Friday. Sure enough, when he looks up again Kunhang is standing in front of him once again.</p><p>“H-Hi!” Dejun stammers out, tugging his sweater sleeves up where they’d slipped down over his hands. “Welcome back!”</p><p>Kunhang doesn’t reply, instead staring at him as though seeing him for the first time. Dejun frowns to himself in confusion, leaning over to gently touch the other man’s shoulder.</p><p>“Kunhang…?” He asks tentatively. </p><p>The other man visibly jolts, as though being shocked back out of his thoughts. </p><p>“S-Sorry!” He laughs out, an awkward little sound. “I kinda zoned out.”</p><p>
The entire situation feels a little odd to Dejun, as though this were all one of his dreams, but he smiles politely in return.</p><p>“It’s fine. Here for the usual?”</p><p>Kunhang nods with an eagerness that suits him. He looks soft as always, his sweater cream-coloured this time, with sleeves so long he has to cling on to stop them slipping down whenever he raises his arms. It makes Dejun’s heart hurt a little as he moves round to lead the way to the flower display. </p><p>“What’s your favourite flower in the entire world, Dejun?” Kunhang’s question makes him pause in his movements, looking back at the other man. </p><p>“My favourite?” He doesn’t have to think before he answers. “White lilies. Why?”</p><p>“White lilies?” Kunhang echoes back, an almost mischievous smile spreading across his face. “That’s funny, I think they might be my favourite too.”</p><p>“Oh!” Dejun replies. He’s not sure what exactly to do with that bit of information, but it warms him inside to know that Kunhang’s favourite flower lies hidden on his wrist. “I think we got a new shipment in yesterday, if you’d like to look?”</p><p>“Mmm,” Kunhang hums, watching him with unusually bright eyes. “Good idea, Dejun.”</p><p>Dejun hands tremble when he pulls down the vase of white lilies from the display, pottery cold against his fingers as he holds it out for Kunhang to inspect. The other man leans in close enough that Dejun can smell his cologne as he combs through the arrangement, a frown on his face.</p><p>
“Is something wrong?” Dejun asks quietly, worry blooming in his chest.</p><p>“They’re pretty, but I don’t think they’re quite what I’m looking for.” Kunhang replies, pulling away a fraction.</p><p><em>Oh</em>.</p><p>“Oh,” Dejun bites his lip, trying to think of another solution. “What did you have in mind? Maybe I’d be more helpful if I knew what you were looking for?”</p><p>Kunhang hums again, tilting his head.</p><p>“Do you have anything that looks like this?” He grins, pulling up the sleeve that covers his right arm.</p><p>A white lily stares back at Dejun from Kunhang’s wrist. It’s beautiful, achingly familiar in the way the petals unfurl delicately across the other man’s skin. Most important of all, it’s identical to his own.</p><p>
  <em>Pure love and sweetness. </em>
</p><p>Johnny’s voice echoes in Dejun’s mind as Kunhang smiles sweetly at him, something that could very well be love shining in his eyes. </p><p>Kunhang is his soulmate. </p><p>Dejun drops the vase. </p><p>❀❀❀</p><p>Dejun has always loved flowers. </p><p>But he thinks he loves the one on Kunhang’s wrist the most, especially when his soulmate comes to visit him every Friday afternoon at the flower shop, waiting for any chance to intertwine his fingers with Dejun’s own. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>notes: </p><p>- morning glory: extinguished hopes or uncertainty<br/>- tulip: declaration of love</p><p>the chrysanthemums have little significance to the actual story (i just love them a lot), but they mean cheerfulness under adversity.</p><p>thank you for reading ♡</p></blockquote></div></div>
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